


low lights and cabernet

by spacesquirrels



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Gay Keith (Voltron), Hunk (Voltron) is so Pure, M/M, Spy Keith (Voltron), Spy Lance (Voltron), Stop saying that, but they're assigned to be partners, keith is so bad at "people stuff", lance and keith dislike each other, lance was in the military, shiro isn't space dad now hes spy dad, tags will update as shit goes down, they dont like to be called spies, they're AGENTS okay, updates every Monday
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-13 01:48:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18458960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacesquirrels/pseuds/spacesquirrels
Summary: Dim rooms, sharp tuxes, and the musk of wine. Wealthy businessmen and politicians make up most of the room.Objective: Infiltrate. Get information. Stay alert.As an added bonus: Keep your partner alive.





	1. Intro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was looking for a good Spy AU fic
> 
> I couldn't find a n y t h i n g
> 
> So I decided to make one
> 
> Lets delve into this pit of regret shall we

Lance grew up in a large family.

His father was a second-generation Altean Citizen, his parents the first to migrate from Cuba. His mother was first-generation. So, naturally, Spanish was the first language of the household. Noise was in every corner of their home and was usually in the form of sibling fights or Disney karaoke. The McClain family was tightly woven with love. They had a simple reason for it, too.

For the McClains, family was the only constant.

Mr. McClain was a proud member of the Altean army. As a Colonel, he was moving frequently across Europe, working different duties in each place. And, by extension, the other McClains moved with him. They abstained from making too many connections in any one city, knowing they’d only leave in the end.

Lance both hated and loved his father’s job. Sure, seeing different countries had been cool, but he longed to make a solid friend. The longest he’d stayed in one place was from 1998-2001, back when his father was working an Altean base. He desperately wanted a place to call home.

After graduating high school, Lance was at a loss. Altea had a required military service. Since Lance was a citizen, he was obligated for three years of service. His family encouraged him to join the army repeatedly. Lance had considered Air Force briefly if only to set himself apart from his father’s shadow. It took a single conversation over dinner for his parents to persuade him.

It came up when Mr. McClain was stationed in the Czech Republic.

“Lance,” his father had said in a gravelly baritone, gripping his fork stiffly. “Have you given more thought to your choice in military service?” He ate slowly and meticulously, eyes expectant on his oldest child. The rest of the family also sat up with bright eyes focused on Lance. His four younger sisters had even stopped fighting.

“Um, yeah,” Lance mumbled in reply. “I’m going to go for Air Force, I think.” He tried to play it off casually with a shrug. His mother was having none of it.

“Dios mio, we’ve talked about this,” Mrs. McClain tutted, shaking her head while reaching for the asparagus. “Your father and I would prefer if you joined the Army. You have the best opportunities and referrals to succeed there, thanks to your Papa. You could even make it your career after your required service!”

 

“Yeah, that does sound pretty good,” Lance admitted wearily, looking down blankly at his food. Maria, his oldest sister (sixteen- two years younger than Lance), gave him a frown.

“You’d be stupid to pass up what the Army will offer you, Lance. You’ll be an instant favorite because of Pa.” She leveled him with an even glare. Lance looked away.

“Alright, alright,” he muttered, stabbing his broccoli with his fork. “Army it is.”

And so, when it came time, Lance enlisted in the Army. In just a few months he packed his bags, said farewell to his ragtag group of friends, and announced leave from his part-time job. Just like that, Lance returned to Altea, moving for the first time without his family.

It was rough at first. Self-defense training was difficult for Lance to master. His inherent clumsiness made it difficult to find control, but he managed. Discipline was less tough, considering his father already ran the household in an orderly way. He was rarely late to any classes.

Where Lance truly shone was in marksmanship.

Lance was found to be gifted with excellent distance skills. Within his first two months of training, he’d almost mastered the use of both a pistol and an M107 semi-automatic rifle. His commanding officers, who usually were stingy with praise, often commended him on his aim. Lance even found himself growing closer to other enlistees. Life in the army was looking up- he made sure to repeat that fact in every email and text he sent to his family.

It wasn’t long before he was deployed to Afghanistan.

His first actual mission was terrifying. Orders, screams, bullets- it was hell. It took a month before Lance could sleep more than an hour at a time, and even then, he’d see blood when he closed his eyes.

Despite the constant fear that the battlefield had to offer, he developed somewhat of camaraderie among his officers. In just a short amount of time, his marksmanship became renowned in his battalion. Their commanding officers were repeatedly impressed by his aim, even when it sickened Lance to think about it.

He kept cracking jokes despite his unease. It was easier to pretend that he wasn’t haunted by the calluses on his hands and the gunshots in his ears. It was easier to pretend than to be dishonorably discharged.

Lance continued serving for the next two years. Exactly one month before the end of his mandatory service, Lance received an unusual order from a Lieutenant Colonel. According to the officer, he was supposed to report directly to a Jeep arriving at 1200 hours. He was ordered to make the trip alone and not to repeat his instructions to anyone.

Helpless to the orders of a high-ranked officer, Lance agreed, though a prickle of confusion settled between his ribs.

Lance reported to the Jeep at the designated time. He was mildly surprised to see two men in the car, both dressed in business casual clothes under kevlar vests. One of the men had jet black hair with a white tuft in front, while the other had a bright red mustache.

The man with black hair climbed out of the Jeep when he saw Lance, making his way over to the lanky soldier with a relaxed ease that Lance wasn’t used to. Still, he snapped into a salute, shoulders stiff.

“Good afternoon, sir!” Lance said in way of greeting. He noticed that the man had a scar across his nose and was a few inches taller than him. No obvious weapons were on his belt, which was even more strange, considering they were in an active war zone.

“You don’t have to call me ‘sir,’ I’m not in the military anymore,” the man chuckled, a bright smile appearing. “At ease, soldier.” At the sound of the familiar command, Lance relaxed, hands falling to his sides. The man walked up to him and stuck out his hand- which Lance now noticed was a metal prosthetic. He shook the man’s hand, the cold metal sticking to his clammy hands uncomfortably.

“I’m Takashi Shirogane, but you can call me Shiro. My agency has a proposition for you. We can discuss further where there aren’t any possible listeners.” Shiro jabbed a thumb in the direction of the Jeep, where the mustachioed man was staring at the two in interest. Lance nodded, still silent. Why was the army sending him to two non-military weirdos in a Jeep? Nothing in training had prepared him for… whatever this was. Hesitant, Lance made his way to the car, climbing in the back and waiting for someone to explain what the hell was happening.

“Hello, Lance!” the mustachioed man chirped. He sounded British or Australian- Lance couldn’t really tell which. “We’re here to make you an offer to join an Altean organization.” Lance watched as Shiro sighed in exhaustion.

“Coran, we can’t really lead with that,” Shiro gently told the redhead. “It’s confusing to newbies.” Shiro turned to Lance with a warm smile.

“This is Coran Smythe. He’s my co-worker at an intelligence operative organization known as Voltron Agency,” Shiro said, watching as Lance’s expression contorted into even deeper confusion. Shiro let out another sigh, deciding to be blunt. “We’re an undercover spy agency working in favor of the Altean government.”

Lance’s composure unraveled at that.

“What.” Lance threw his hands in the air, dropping his militant stiffness in an instant. “What the hell. Why do you need to talk to me?”

“Voltron’s been looking for exceptionally skilled people, preferably of lower standing, to join our ranks,” Coran explained further. His bright tone never wavered despite the seriousness of the conversation. “Low-level officers will have less of an impact on the Altean military if they suddenly disappear, and you fit that bill. It doesn’t hurt that your skill with firearms is reportedly excellent.”

“Join your ranks?! I’m- I’m already in the army!” Lance was sputtering as he spoke. Shiro gave him a knowing glance.

“We can take care of that.”

In the end, Lance couldn’t exactly place why he’d agreed to join them. Maybe it was to serve Altea. Maybe it was to prove that he was more than a useless army brat following in his father’s shadow. Perhaps it was born out of a need to find his own place in the world, to show himself that he was worth something. Voltron chose him out of hundreds of soldiers… that had to mean something.

And so it began: Lance’s career as a spy (though the people at Voltron hated that term).

Voltron had a few main rules.

Number One: Sever all connections with family and friends until you leave the agency.

This rule, in particular, was difficult for him. His family was all that he had, he couldn’t just give them up. In the end, he was convinced by Shiro, who explained the danger that he’d be putting his family in by keeping in touch.

The officers who served with Lance were told that he was honorably discharged because of chronic illness, and the McClain family was told that Lance was still with his battalion. Both accepted the information easily. Lance’s only job was to keep the lie afloat by sending them letters regularly as if he was still in Afghanistan.

Rule Two: Stay off the radar.

Hackers at Voltron scoured through his social media accounts, extensively erasing all footprints Lance had formed online. Pictures of Lance mysteriously disappeared from Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook. Even comments that only mentioned his name were taken down. Lance’s own phone was destroyed since Voltron provided him with a new agency-issue model.

Rule Three: Always carry a weapon.  
Voltron provided Lance with a small Glock pistol, easily concealable in a leg holster. The facility itself had a large array of weaponry available for practice and field use. There was also a range to practice, which was required by Lance at least twice a week.

Rule Four, the last one: No permanent partnerships.

Nobody went into detail about it, but from what Lance could gather, an accident a year ago with Shiro had caused it. Apparently, Shiro’s partnered agent had put himself in danger to protect Shiro, causing his own capture along with the vital information he was carrying. It was the same incident that had caused Shiro to lose his arm. Lance decided not to pry into Shiro’s past. He understood the pain of previous trauma.

The agency had situated Lance in a new apartment, gave him a new last name and ID card, and provided him with a new bank account. They even forced him to let his buzz cut grow out again.

All in all, it felt like Voltron Agency had brought military precision into an urban lifestyle.

It took some time for Lance to get used to being around people again. He was constantly jumpy, had trouble sleeping alone again, and still kept his gun under his pillow. The agency provided him with a therapist, who helped him talk out his issues from Afghanistan. He was able to almost come to terms with his slight PTSD.

Almost.

The nightmares, Lance was sure, would never leave.

Voltron Agency did a rigorous six-month training course before allowing him on any field missions, and Lance passed it with flying colors. While his instructors believed he was lacking in any melee proficiency, they did react the same way as his previous officers when seeing his marksmanship.

Then, on the first day of September, Takashi Shirogane was the first to hand him his badge, new gun, and beaming grin. Lance marveled at the text inside his badge case, a small smile alight on sun-kissed cheeks. Even if it wasn’t his real last name, that was his accomplishment.

Lance Sanchez.

Field agent for Voltron Agency.

First rank.


	2. Interlude/Background

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rise of Altea and the foundation of Voltron.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so the previous chapter was successful! I felt insanely inspired to make some background. So here's a fun little bit of info on what the heck Voltron is and why it was made.
> 
> Also explains something mentioned in yesterday's chapter so tune in folks!

_ In 1867, the British-occupied colony of Altea began a revolution. Fighting back against the oppressive British monarchy took three years, even with help from allies in France, Spain, and the Netherlands.  _

 

_ But at last, on April 15, 1870, Altea drove the last of the British troops from their borders. Bells sounded from every church, soldiers returned home to worried families, and everything felt safe. _

 

_ This was when Altea learned that nothing ever lasts.  _

 

_ In the coming year, Altea needed to form a government. The Alteans faced a conundrum. All of their allies were ruled by monarchies, and even Britain was successful with a ruler on the throne. It would only make sense to make a ruler-based government. They’d seen how the democracy of the Americans had turned out… the Alteans didn't need a Civil War on their hands.  _

  
  


_ Major Altean leaders gathered in the new capital, Learcia, to discuss who would be at the crown. Most members of the Learcian Council (as they were dubbed by citizens) were content with lower government status. One man, however, was determined to be the new king.  _

 

_ His name was Zarkon Galra. _

_ Zarkon employed other members of his family to help him. The Galra family traveled the streets encouraging support while he argued for his position as king to the Council. Needless to say, the Council was convinced, especially since the Galra had donated large sums of money to the construction of new government facilities.  _

 

_ And so, the throne became occupied by Zarkon. _

 

_ At first, Zarkon was a merciful and wise king. He followed through on policies that were promised when he was in the Learcian Council. He insisted that his castle was built after all other necessary buildings, showing his kindness and valor. He even took the time to hear complaints from average citizens. _

 

_ It was his death that caused the problem. In 1909, Zarkon Galra died from natural causes, passing his crown down to his son. Myrenn Galra was not as gentle as Zarkon had been. He increased taxes on working-class citizens, replaced the nobles with other Galra family members, and used government funds for his own benefit. He was disliked by everyone. _

 

_ The Alteans were seething. When Myrenn passed away in 1945, he was replaced with an equally greedy member of the Galra family. Each new ruler was worse, but each stayed in power, protected by blankets of false promises and sharp threats.  _

 

_ Then, in 1980, a man named Zarkon III ascended to the throne. He was the worst the Alteans had ever faced. He sentenced criminals to cruel punishments (going so far as to torture only petty thieves), used tax money to purchase gold as a display of power, and broke relations with allies from other nations.  _

 

_ Altea had enough. _

 

_ They began to revolt. Citizens gathered in large groups, scavenging for weapons that had been illegally traded, and swarmed the Royal Palace in Learcia. Torches ablaze, the guards didn't stand a chance against the hundreds upon thousands of Alteans brimming with righteous fury. The fight lasted barely four hours. Zarkon was dead, and the remaining Galra family retreated into the darker parts of Altea. _

 

_ On May 7, 1980, a new government began to form. Alteans decided to give democracy a chance. One ruling family was too powerful for their liking. A new Learcian Council was formed, this time electing a new leader. President Alfor Smythe. _

 

_ Alfor rebuilt the nation. He made the poorer citizens feel stable again. He formed a legislative system and a judicial system, both in turn creating policies that banned the harsh treatment of citizens and protected their rights. He sold the gold from Zarkon’s rule to other countries, using the money to fund a better school system and new roads. As a way of erasing the last of Zarkon’s legacy, he renamed the castle. The Castle of Lions became a national symbol of peace rather than the terror it sparked from the Galra rule. _

 

_ What Altea didn't expect, however, was for an old noble family to hire a professional assassin. He struck at dawn in 1984, a year before Alfor would pass his seat to another Altean. The assassin murdered Alfor with a knife to the stomach.  _

 

_ The nation was in mourning. The vice president took on the role as president but had trouble accepting the spot when the opposition was violently against him. He knew all future leaders would feel unsafe in the seat of President. A Secret Service wouldn’t be enough to protect them. They’d need an organization that could identify and neutralize threats before they emerged.  _

 

_ And thus, Voltron Agency was formed. Intelligence operatives with the intent of keeping the democratic Altean government alive and detecting threats before they became dangerous. Their facility was built under the Castle of Lions with the best soundproof technology offered. The government’s top scientists created advanced weaponry. Around three hundred people were handpicked to have a place in the new agency with the instructions to completely disconnect and keep it secret. Voltron successfully defended the democracy against many small threats, but nothing big arose.  _

 

_ Not for the next 35 years.  _

 

_ Then, in 2015, an unknown threat appeared. Takashi Shirogane and Matthew Holt were sent out to investigate rumors of an anti-government group located in a small town next to Learcia. They found the threat in the form of seven tall, stocky men armed with heavy weaponry. Two of the men tortured Takashi to get information, mutilating his arm beyond recognition. Matthew managed to escape the hold of a third man, shoving Takashi out of the way as fast as he could. Takashi watched as Matthew Holt was captured. Matthew told him to run. _

 

_ So he did. _

 

_ Takashi reported back to Voltron, explaining the situation. Matthew, along with the USB that they had attempted to steal from the men, was kidnapped. Voltron was in chaos.  _

_  
_ _ Finally, the Head of Agency created a new policy. No permanent partnerships were allowed. Attachments only weakened the ability to make a rational decision in favor of Altea. Solo missions became the forefront of Voltron’s mission statement. _

 

_ The Head of Agency retired soon after, replaced by Alfor’s daughter, who had been a newborn at the time of her father’s death. Allura Smythe. Respected for her deadly aim and unparalleled melee fighting. She kept the policy intact with help from her Deputy Head, Coran Smythe, who was also her uncle. Together, they began an initiative to recruit new, young agents, preferably with low reputations and few connections. _

 

_ Enter Lance McClain. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm planning on making this 10+ chapters because wowie this could get interesting
> 
> So here's my brand new state of the art Tumblr account: https://space-squirrels.tumblr.com/
> 
> Come say hi! I'm willing to rant about these beautiful space disasters 24/7


	3. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A turbulent meeting reintroduces some unwanted memories.

Lance walked briskly through a white hallway, blue lights shining every few feet. His loafers clacked against the perfectly clean floor as he threw up his wrist to check his watch. _Still on time._  He moved faster, reaching the end of the hall and pushing open a set of double doors.

No one was in the conference room. 

Annoyed and exhausted, Lance took a seat in the third chair down from the head of the table. Everything in the conference room was perfectly organized and color coordinated, just like the rest of Voltron Agency Headquarters. Lance drummed his fingers on the table, deciding to wait for one of the other agency members to show up.

Lance McClain, now known as Lance Sanchez, had walked into the doors of Voltron a little over a year ago. He’d trained hard and fought his way through the ranks of field agents, emerging out nearly at the top.

Field agents were classified in a ten-level rank system. Level ten was the highest. Few agents had made it to that level, and Takashi Shirogane was among the few. Lance was at level seven, which was still a major achievement in his _humble opinion._

“Where’s Allura?” a grumpy voice snapped Lance away from his train of thought. He looked up, only to groan and scrunch up his face in disgust. 

“I dunno, Mullet.” Lance tried to channel as much disdain as possible into his voice. He gave the other field agent a once over. Untucked plaid dress shirt. Black slacks. Brown loafers. The classic Keith Fingerless Gloves. “You look like an emo tax collector went shopping at Nordstrom.”

“Hey, watch it.” Keith smirked when Shiro reprimanded Lance. The tall man walked into the conference room and took a seat to the left of the head table’s head. Shiro fixed Lance with a stern look once he was settled. “Let’s keep it civil, Lance.”

Lance nodded but stuck his tongue out at Keith when Shiro wasn’t looking. Keith wrinkled his nose and took his seat next to Lance.

Keith Kogane was an eighth rank field agent who specialized in hand-to-hand and melee weaponry. He was known to excel at solo missions and was equally famous at Voltron for his past. Like Lance, he’d joined the army for his required service years. Unlike Lance, he hadn’t even made it past the training courses. Right before he was about to be deployed, Keith had a disagreement with a commanding officer and punched him in the eye. He was supposed to be sent home on a dishonorable discharge.

Instead, Voltron agency sought him out. Shiro had recruited him in a similar way to how Lance was recruited. Lance had followed in his footsteps only two years later, still managing to climb through the ranks with sheer determination.

“Lance! I didn't know you’d be here too!” Hunk, a Tech Department worker, was now at the doorway. He beamed and rushed for the seat across from his best friend. Lance gave him a fist bump across the table.

“Allura must have recognized my genius at last,” Lance said, chest puffed out in pride. “I bet we’re all called to talk about an award ceremony in my honor.” A collective groan sounded from everyone at the table. 

“I don’t think that’s what she meant when she said you have a ‘big head,’” Pidge deadpanned, snatching a seat next to Hunk after slinking in the room. “We’d better pray that this meeting goes quick. I’m running on five mugs of cheap coffee and I don’t want to crash in the middle.”

Lance eyed her warily. How could someone so small even _survive_ that much caffeine intake? She was still dressed in clothes she’d worn yesterday- a green shirt and loose black pants. Lance could bet she hadn’t even gone home to shower since coming in for work yesterday morning.

Hunk Garrett and Pidge Holt. Lance’s best friends, both in and out of Voltron. Hunk was a generally soft, warm-hearted guy. His cooking was one of the few reasons Lance woke up in the morning. People often assumed he was a dunce, but that was _far_ from the truth. Hunk’s skills in engineering were second to none. Lance couldn’t count the number of times one of his gadgets had saved his sorry ass. If there was ever a perfect human, Lance was sure that Hunk would be the real deal.

Pidge was like Hunk’s opposite. It was as if she made up for her lack of height in sarcasm and statistics. She worked in the software department of Voltron, using her skills at coding to give field agents tools for information retrieval.

One of her most famous creations was a data-stealing USB. When plugged into any computer, the USB made replicas of every file and application in order of what was last opened. Pidge was (without exaggeration) Voltron’s equivalent of Einstein. 

Lance watched the door swing open again, silencing the light chatter between the other four Voltron workers. Two more people walked in. Coran was the first, a large smile on his face when he held the door open for Allura to walk through. Allura gave him a kind nod in return, revealing her white hair to be tied in a neat bun.

Allura and Coran Smythe were related through Allura’s father- Alfor, the first president of Altea. While Allura was all sharp edges and uptight demeanor, Coran was optimism and warmth. There wasn’t a single member of Voltron who felt out of place when talking to Coran. Even Allura, though intimidating, made everyone feel comfortable communicating with her.

“Good morning, everyone,” she said formally while taking a seat at the head of the table. Coran claimed a seat next to her, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “I’m sure you’re all wondering why I called a meeting today.” She pulled a manila folder out of a black briefcase and set it on the table.

“Yeah, yeah, just a _bit_ confused as to why this really random group of people were chosen for a highly classified meeting with the head of the entire agency. No big deal or anything.” Allura let out a long sigh at Lance’s sarcasm, ignoring the cocky smirk on his face.

“ _Lance_ ,” Shiro admonished in a bored tone, leaning his head against his arm.

“How have you not been fired yet?” Keith said while shooting an exasperated frown in Lance’s direction.

“ _Keith_ ,” Shiro said in an equally annoyed voice, not bothering to raise his head.

“Because I’m special and lovable,” Lance explained, choosing to ignore Shiro. Allura stepped in before anyone could continue.

“It’s _also_ because you have a year’s worth of lock-and-key information that you could release to the public as revenge for being fired from Voltron.” Allura sent a sharp glance at the two arguing field agents, both shrinking sheepishly against their seats. Pidge covered a hand over her mouth to stop from laughing (though a few chuckles did escape).

“Now. Back to the _actual topic at hand,_ keeping in mind that we are a _professional agency created to defend the freedom of the country_.” Allura sucked in a deep breath. The conference room fell silent. Coran gave her an encouraging nod, gesturing for her to continue.

Allura opened the folder. The amusement in the room vanished.

Shiro made a strangled noise, his metal hand unconsciously balling in a fist.

Pidge reached for Hunk’s hand in comfort. Even Lance winced when Allura held up the infamous picture.

Laid bare on the eight-by-eleven paper was the crime scene where Matthew Holt had been kidnapped by revolutionary criminals. Taking place in a warehouse in the dangerous Kerberos District, it had been easy to disguise the failed mission as gang activity. Blood stained a wooden table, and the only light in the room came from a light bulb hanging from the ceiling. Several numbered placards littered the dark grey carpeting, each planted in front of evidence. The most disturbing piece of evidence was number seven; a bloody double-edged knife.

Lance watched Shiro flinch as he stared at the picture, head snapping away and shoulders shaking. It was the first time he’d seen the tenth-level agent afraid of anything.

Scratch _afraid_ . Takashi Shirogane looked downright _shocked_.

Keith tensed beside Lance, indigo eyes narrowed at Allura. He could tell Keith was questioning her motives. No wonder Keith was worried; Shiro was like his brother. Allura was usually sensitive to Shiro’s experience at Kerberos, so why would she bring up Matt’s capture in such an abrasive way?

“Allura,” Hunk tentatively spoke, dark eyes full of worry. “Can you please get to the point? This is some… sensitive stuff.” He gestured to the software worker to his right. Pidge looked eerily calm. Her only tell was her trembling fingers held between Hunk’s comforting hands.

“Right, of course,” Allura quickly backtracked, an embarrassed flush spreading across her cheeks. “The point I was trying to make. We’ve caught wind of anti-government activity in a particular pub in Levington, a town three miles away from the edge of the capital. I currently have a field agent stationed in a van twelve meters away from the pub’s parking entrance. He’s been listening to audio from bugs he planted earlier… and from what we can make of the shaky recordings, the people who kidnapped Matt are still at large.”

“Wait, hold on. You’re saying you want to re-open the case?” Pidge blurted out. Her owlish eyes were wide with both fear and pleading. “Do you think that you can- that you can find Matt?”

Something inside of Lance shattered at how hopeful she sounded. It was common knowledge among most of Voltron that Pidge had been distraught when her brother, Matt, was captured in the Kerberos ambush of 2015. Shiro, who was a family friend of the Holts, had been the one to break the news. Unfortunately, that hadn’t made it any easier to swallow.

Especially when Pidge heard that Matt had been captured to save Shiro. She hadn’t been able to look at him the same for _months_. When no one in Voltron had been able to find more about the people who jumped the two field agents, the case was pronounced closed in 2017. Pidge had verbally argued against it, throwing years of sleepless nights into searching for evidence of her brother’s whereabouts.

“Yes,” Coran gently interjected, giving Pidge a look of deep emotion. “We’re reopening the case.” Pidge looked like she was about to start crying from joy. Shiro sent a wary smile her way, to which she responded with a similar grin.

Lance watched the exchange feeling pretty awkward. Of _course_ he was happy for Pidge and Shiro. He knew how hard it was to miss a close family member, and he wouldn’t wish it on anyone else. He just didn’t know where he fit into the equation.

One glance at Keith showed that the other agent had a similar confusion. It would make sense that Allura called in Shiro and Pidge. Shiro was Matt’s partner and Pidge was his brother; both were tied to the case. But why did she bring Keith, Lance, and Hunk to the meeting?

“I’m sure the rest of you are wondering why you’re here,” Allura voiced Lance’s inner thoughts aloud. He nodded in return. He’d already made that obvious earlier. It was taking Allura _way too long_ to get to the point. Coran took over for his niece.

“Allura and I have been conversing for a while about the Kerberos mission. We believe that the failure wasn’t because Matt and Shiro were partners,” Coran said gently. He sounded like a parent breaking hard news to a child. “So we’ve decided to bring back permanent partnerships. We’re starting with this case, and we are putting Keith and Lance together on the case. They will be supported by Pidge and Hunk, with Shiro as their senior advisor.”

Allura cast a knowing look to Shiro. “We don’t want the radicals to recognize Shiro, especially because of his arm.”

Shiro flexed the fingers of his arm with a grimace. He understood, but he didn’t like the situation it placed him in.

The tense silence was broken by Pidge, who let out a large outburst. “Are you kidding me? _Partnerships_ caused Matt to vanish. Being _partnered_ with someone caused him to sacrifice himself _and_ the USB of information!”

Shiro winced.

“And Keith and Lance are the _worst people to put together._ They never stop arguing! They’ll jeopardize the whole mission!” Lance bit back a protest. He knew his friend was hurting. Pidge didn’t mean anything by it. Keith, ever impulsive, reacted differently.

“Are you joking? You just work in software, you can’t make calls like that,” Keith shot back.

Hunk and Lance shared surprised looks. Pidge and Keith usually got along well, bonding over weird X-Files style documentaries and government conspiracies. It was strange to see them at odds against each other.

Pidge’s eyes bored into Keith. Keith’s own glare was nothing to laugh about. Both had jumped to their feet while arguing, and Keith looked positively _pissed,_ standing with his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed. Pidge just looked frantic. After a few tense seconds (that felt like they lasted forever), Shiro cut in.

“Alright, that’s enough,” he said, pushing himself to his feet. “We can’t get into fights with each other. There are more important places to focus our anger.”

“We don’t even know who we’re against,” Hunk’s strained voice piped up. All eyes focused on him, and he looked away. “I mean, how do we fight an enemy that we don’t even know?”

“He has a point,” Lance agreed. His thumbs fidgeted below the table. “I don’t know where we can start.”

Allura nodded, relieved that the topic had crossed into friendlier territory. The tenseness in her shoulders faded when she answered Lance. “We have a few agents who will be stationed inside and outside the bar that we’re currently monitoring. Coran and I determined it would be best to find a possible location that one of the revolutionaries operate from. You and Keith will be sent in to retrieve data on the organization.”

“Sounds good,” Keith muttered. Lance nodded, but Pidge only scoffed. Hunk frowned at the exchange.

“Do you have a problem with that?” Shiro addressed Pidge, his stern Dad Voice returning only moments after it had been used.

“I just think we should send Keith with one of my USB’s. It’ll store everything it can in ten minutes. It copies files on computers in order of what was last opened,” Pidge sounded oddly passive when she spoke, which rubbed Lance the wrong way.

“We already know what the USB doe-” Keith was cut off by Lance, who kicked him under the table, a fake grin plastered to his face.

“That’d be great, Pidgey,” Lance said, pointedly ignoring Keith’s grumble of annoyance. “Can you give each of us one tomorrow?”

She nodded, and Lance responded with a thumbs up. Pidge cracked a small smile. Well, _progress is progress._

“I guess you two idiots would screw up it if there was only one,” she dryly remarked.

“Keith and Lance, you’ll begin training together tomorrow,” Coran said. Lance nudged Keith with his elbow, flashing him a grin. Keith’s scowl made him look away again. “You need to get a feel for each other’s fighting style. You were specifically handpicked because of each of your individual skills. Keith is better at close-range, while Lance is adept at distance weaponry. Both of you together will make a formidable team.”  
  
“Shiro, we’d like it if you could watch them practice tomorrow,” Allura added. “Any advice you can give to them would be very appreciated.”

“I’d be happy to.”

“Hunk, Pidge, tomorrow you both will give them any devices you deem necessary on the mission,” Allura continued. “We’d like them to practice with anything new rather than testing it in the field.” Hunk high-fived Pidge even though she seemed unenthusiastic.

“All of you will meet at training room five-C tomorrow, at 1200 sharp,” Coran finished. “Thank you for coming. Meeting adjourned.”

Nobody had to tell Lance twice. Rocketing ahead of everyone, the lanky man felt the urge to kick feeling into his feet. He stood to the left of the double door entrance of the conference room. Pidge bolted out without so much as a hello, speeding down the hallway and rounding a corner. Hunk, Keith, and Shiro followed at a slower pace.

As Lance watched Pidge’s retreating form, he found himself doubting Allura’s choice. Pidge had been right about one thing. Sure, it made sense to put _Keith_ on the mission. He’d been in the agency for years. But in a partnership with _Lance,_ of all people?

He was awful at hand-to-hand. He was uncoordinated, cheeky, and relentlessly bothersome. He’d heard it all from people who’d gone on small missions with him in the past- Lance was insufferable.

Lance McClain resolved to, above all else, prevent himself from _royally fucking up_ this new case assignment. 

And hey, maybe Keith could grow to at least endure Lance’s company by the end of the case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhhh this took ages to check for grammar 
> 
> come say hi to me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/)! i post teasers & occasional klance content, so feel free to come by, my dm's are open!


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